Mother! fire, life, birth
by Night Owl 93
Summary: A stylized novelization of the allegorical film "mother!" His house is His home, and his wife is his Goddess. while He struggles with his next creation, She maintains order. but, as He invites more and more people into Their home, they only destroy everything She has built. as the people ravage the house, Mother fears for her newborn Son's safety.
1. -fire

Mother!

fire:

there was only chaos. there was only the crackle of flames, the structures crumbling, and the screams of the people burning.

and in the center of all the destruction...was Mother. soon, she too was lost to the fire.

and then, there was only darkness.

inside that silent darkness, a pair of hands, His hands, stained with ashes, cradled an object in the gentle, caring grasp of His fingers. the object was small, made up all over with rough edges, but was nonetheless beautiful, and most precious.

a promise of a smile began on his lips, but did not blossom. instead, His eyes fell downcast as He placed the object upon its post. and then, there was light.

light bloomed from the object and spread across the whole surface of the house. the frames and walls were restored, the ashes cleared, and His home was whole again.

in His bed, a body formed beneath the sheets. an arm arose from the folds and reached out, only to find Him to be gone from Her side.

a woman, young and beautiful, her long hair tied into a braid, rose upright. Mother.

Her eyes blinked in the dawn's light, then looked all about before she called out for Him, Her husband, Her love,

"baby?"

* * *

 **Here's the start of a novelization of the film mother! I've got cooking up.**

 **The story will be narrated like an oral tale, akin to a Grimm's tale or ancient myth, and the grammar will be stylized as you see here; all capitalizations will be selective. And only this prologue will be past tense, the remainder will be present tense.**

 **Keep your eyes peeled.**


	2. -life- i She awakes

**-life-**

 **i. She awakes**

Mother rises from Their bed, the bed She and He share, and walks in search for Him. She does not change Her clothing, remaining in her nightgown, the white fabric so thin She might as well have been naked as the day She was born. She feels no shame in her nakedness only comfort as She walks barefoot throughout the house.

once out of the bedroom, She hangs Her head over the railing, Her ears open for any sound of Him, but She hears nothing. She checks in His study next. She widens the parted door and pokes Her head in to look, while keeping Her feet just outside the doorway. this room is His personal, private paradise, the room where He works on His creations, and He dislikes anyone being in it without Him present, and She respects His wish. but, He is not there.

a book of paper and an assortment of pens lay on the surface of the desk on the far side of the room. the sun's light pours throigh the windows behind it, shining down on the blank leaves of paper. the walls are taken by bookshelves. only a few are filled with books, set out for quick and easy access, while the rest remain packed in boxes on the floor.

on the left hand side of the room is a fire hearth. on the mantle place above it is the rough-edged object, His most precious possession. the object is clear like glass or crystal; She doesn't know what and He has never explained, only that it is incredibly delicate. the object already contains cracks all throughout it. as the sunlight shines on it, those cracks become illuminated like veins of light.

She shuts the door and descends down the remaining flights of stairs to the ground level. She moves through the connected rooms; the lounge, the dining room, the kitchen, even the bathroom, but She still cannot find Him. have looked in all possible places, She steps out the front door and looks outside.

all around the house, there is nothing but wilderness; trees lush and green and so numerous that they obscure everything that exists beyond, as though Their's is the only home in the whole world. the only sounds come from the whispering summer breeze, the leaves brushing together the birds whistling and the insects chirping and buzzing. even their noise was so distant it was as if they were on a separate world. even out here, He is still nowhere to be found.

She relents Her search and turns to go back inside the house, when Her body collides with His.

"oh," She gasps, startled, but her flash of fear is just as quickly replaced by Her affection for Him. "you scared me," She says with a laugh.

"I'm sorry," He laughs in return, kissing Her lips, "I didn't mean to." His voice holds an accent that sounds italian, or perhaps greek.

His stature is taller than Hers so that He has to lower His head for Their lips to meet. His body is also much larger than Hers, though He is by no means massive. His bone structure is square and symmetrical, His brow wide and His nose long and straight, much like a roman statue. His face is creased with wrinkles and his jet black hair has spots of silver sprouting in, but He is still quite young yet.

"You were outside?" She asks, "why didn't You wake me?"

"I wanted to be alone," He answers. it causes Her expression to drop. "I mean, I needed to clear My head," He says, trying to soothe Her hurt, "get the ideas flowing."

She nods Her head, empathetic. "and did they?"

He sighs, the breath weighing heavy as He foces out, "no."

"don't worry, they will," She tells Him, stroking His hair as if, with Her touch, She could bring the inspiration out, "it'll come."

He nods, agreeing, but His eyes wander beyond Her, beyond Their home, beyond the wilderness that encompasses Them. She rises up on Her toes to kiss Him, bringing Him back from His daze down to earth.

"I must stink," He grumbles.

"i like it," She says, Her voice a warm, inviting purr, but He does not reciprocate.

"I need a shower," He says as He pulls away from Her.

She watches despondently as He trots up the stairs, unbuttoning His shirt along the way, leaving Her alone once again.

She steps over the threshold back into the house and locks the door, shutting the rest of the world and leaving it just Herself and Him.

* * *

 **here at last begins the main body of the story, titled 'life'**

 **while the prologue was told in past tense to describe what _has_ happened, 'life' is told in the present to describe it as something that _is_ happening.**

 **now this will provide a better view on my narrative style on this story, as to the capitalizations and use of metaphor**

 **i'll try to keep it up.**


	3. ii the golden heart

ii. the golden heart

the walls have been replastered, now they only need fresh paint. She has the paint mixed and ready. She scoops up a dab and smears a sample onto the wall. it is off-grey, a simple, cozy shade, but so plain and devoid of color.

 _'it cannot be this,'_ She thinks, tilting Her neck in pondering.

She sits the bowl of paint mix down and approaches the wall. She rests Her palms and forehead to it and closes Her eyes, closing out all else and entering the calm void within Herself. there, within that darkness, She sees a vision: a heart, the very heart of the house itself, great and healthy and strong, radiating golden light as it steadily pumps life through its channels.

She draws in a breath as Her eyes open, inspiration overtaking Her. She goes to Her case filled with rows of vials full of colored powder. She selects a vial and adds a dash to the paint, rapidly mixing it in, transforming the dull grey into a rusty golden yellow.

She spreads a sample of this new color next to the grey. She steps back to take it in, and She releases an accomplished sigh.

 _'there,'_ She decides, _'this is it.'_


	4. iii lunch

**iii. lunch**

after hours of work, Mother prepares lunch for Him and Herself. She is rincing off the cutting board when He walks into the kitchen.

"hey," He says, announcing Himself. He points to a pair of drinking glasses on the drying rack. "can I grab these?"

"i got it", She says, but He takes them anyway, smiling coyly at Her to say, 'don't trouble yourself, I got this.'

He sits at the small table, filling the glasses with water from a pitcher, first Hers, then His own, while Mother brings the food and plates.

" _per_ -fect," He says, smiling with pride in Her work, "you really didn't have to do all of this."

"i wanted to," She says, smiling in return, "You've been working so hard."

"yeah," He grumbles with self-loathing while cutting into His food, _"right."_

She is hurt by his lack of self-confidence, given all the beautiful work He has done. She conceals this with an attempted warm, sympathetic smile as She eats.


End file.
